


The dormitory of the selfish

by Basorexia



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Not Beta Read, Sad, Suicide Attempt, We Die Like Men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21724852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basorexia/pseuds/Basorexia
Summary: When everything was finally gone, Jason turned to drinking to cope. Until he couldn't stop, until it was too late. Until everything was dark and peaceful again.
Relationships: Clark Kent & Jason Todd, Clark Kent/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 35
Kudos: 196





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I am back. It's not happy, and absolutely not checked at all. It's a first draft donc beware the awfulness of the text. 
> 
> Hope you still enjoy the angst. 
> 
> xoxo.

For most of us, having a drink after a hard working day brings us some comfort and allows us to start the evening on a better note. The practice is often punctual and innocent, yet for some people, the drink when they get home from work becomes a ritual, then a habit before it turns into a terrible addiction.  
That's how it started for Jason. The accumulation of events that have punctuated his life since he passed through the Lazarus Pit have pushed him to turn to a drink or two after a patrol to relax. He was drinking with his best friend, it was innocent, friendly. He wasn't doing anything wrong. Then Roy left and Jason was alone in Gotham. Occasional drinks have turned into daily drinks. The bottle was never far away, it was there, placed prominently on the kitchen counter. When he returned home after a patrol, after he had stopped a few thugs, all he had to do was take off his helmet, grab an empty glass and have a good drink. Every night without fail. Every night, he would find some comfort in a glass of alcohol before going to bed. 

Until Roy died. 

His best friend had left. He had left it behind, abandoned him, and Jason was alone. Alone with his bottle.   
He no longer went out, no longer went on patrol, no longer saw anyone. His family had decided to give him some time to grieve, but he did not reappear. Didn't give any news. He spent his days locked in one of his safehouses, and drank. Drunk to the point of vomiting, mourning the death of his friend. He was mourning a wasted life, and found himself comparing Roy's lost life with his own. The sacrifices, the suffering, the total loss of hope. He'd never make it out of there alive. He knew that. There was nothing for them outside of this life. Vigilantes do not live long enough to retire.   
In spite of himself, he had been given a second chance, a second ride on the carousel. Why would you do that? For almost ending up half crazy? For trying to destroy Gotham, kill Bruce, and his replacement? To have this anger permanently buried, bubbling and threatening to explode every minute? Why? Why?   
For nothing.   
It's always the same routine. We go out, we fight, we take the blows, we come home, we drink, we sleep, to start again the next day. There is no way out, no compromise. Barely an emergency exit, taunting him every day, perched on the kitchen counter.  
When Dick finally managed to open the front door of the safehouse where Jason had hid, he couldn't see much. The room was plunged into darkness, and a musty smell jumped to his throat. The air was suffocating. He tried to find a switch, and had to tap the walls on either side of the door before he could get his hands on it and finally turn on the light.   
Dick blinked for a moment, adapting to the sudden brightness. A white and raw light fell on the room without windows. He closed the door behind him, and walked into what appeared to be a living room. 

"Jaybird? »

No answer. The young man was not discouraged and continued to move forward, turning right around the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen.   
That's where he found his brother. Lying on the ground, unconscious, and a collection of empty bottles littering the ground. Only the one he dropped when he fainted still contained remains of poor quality whisky.   
Dick rushed to his brother, immediately putting him on his side, checking his pulse and began to panic when he noticed that he was not responding. His breathing was imperceptible, his eyes revulsed, and a tiny foam on the corner of his lips indicated that he had had to have a seizure.   
With tears in his eyes, his throat tied, Dick called for help and was refused to get into the ambulance with his brother, who rushed him to the nearest hospital. He was shaking, crying and a complete misunderstanding had fallen upon him. He wanted to follow in the car, but once at the wheel could not start the engine. Trembling he called Bruce, and tried to explain the situation. Within half an hour Bruce, accompanied by Alfred, came to pick him up and they headed for the hospital. 

They stayed in the emergency waiting room for hours. Dick, slumped in an armchair, his eyes in the distance, unable to lift his head, to think, to react. Bruce, on the other hand, was pacing tirelessly. He rubbed his hands, his forearms, took a quick look at the double door on the other side of the room, he didn't stop, he couldn't stop.  
Alfred was terrified, but he was the only one who didn't let anything appear. Sitting with his back straight in a chair, he followed the nurses and medical staff, patients coming and going. From time to time he would stop one of the caregivers to ask if there was any news about Jason, but the answer was always the same. 

"Sorry, sir, he was brought in for stomach pumping and tests to assess his condition. »

The waiting was a ordeal for Bruce. He certainly didn't have the best relationship with Jason, but he still was his son. His child, he was supposed to protect him, and be there when he needed it. How could he have left him alone after Roy's death? How dare he abandon his son at a time like this? 

He was interrupted in his internal conversation by the arrival of Jason's doctor. Even Dick, who until now had been completely apathetic, looked up. 

"Mr. Wayne. Your son Jason is in an ethyl coma. We're going to have to keep him under observation for a while longer. We...... We discovered that this may not be a simple isolated incident. He shows signs of advanced addiction. »  
"What do you mean?"  
"I mean, we're not on a fast, punctual, large quantity of alcohol consumption. His blood alcohol level, and the damage noted following the examinations carried out, tend to indicate a high level of regular alcohol consumption. »  
"Is Jason an alcoholic? »

Bruce and the doctor turned to Dick who had just spoken for the first time since he had called 911.

"It is indeed likely yes. And given the blood alcohol level, one might think it was an attempt, I mean a suici..."  
"No."

The doctor was interrupted by Bruce. They wouldn't go to that field. Jason had problems but he wasn't... he..... He just had a little too much to drink. He had not paid attention, had let himself be carried away by grief and an unfortunate accident had happened. 

"Mr. Wayne... you have to understand that with the elements we have..... »  
"My son was just reckless. When is it possible for us to see him? »

The doctor sighed, and told them that it was not possible for the moment to visit Jason. They could come back the next day in the afternoon, the young man's condition would certainly have improved by then. 

Of all the things he had seen or heard in his life, what he had in front of him was the biggest joke of his life. Or dead, Jason wasn't so sure anymore. There was nothing there. Just one room, plunged into darkness, he barely distinguished the contours of what seemed to be furniture. On second thought, it looked a little like his safehouse. He wasn't very sure, everything was blurry, and dark, and he couldn't move. He was sitting with his back against the refrigerator door, a bottle of whisky in his hand, and every time he brought the bottle to his mouth to drink, the contents of the bottle disappeared. He felt like Tantalum, and his bottle was the whimsical sea of the myth. He just knew he had to wait. Waiting for what, he had no idea, he just knew he had to. He had this intimate conviction that he should wait and that something would happen. Good or bad, or even neutral, something was going to happen. He didn't know when, he didn't know how, you just had to wait, and be patient.   
At first he wondered if he was dreaming, but he quickly dismissed the idea. His dreams were often nightmares, and what few real dreams he had were not ... he could not remember them. So he found himself in a strange version of his apartment, or what he thought was his apartment, could not drown his thoughts in alcohol, and therefore had to remain alone with his thoughts. He placed the bottle next to him, and thought about what had happened since he learned of his best friend's death. Again, like what he saw around him, everything was blurry. He had spent his time drinking and was not sure if he had thought about eating properly. Maybe he had starved to death. In any case, he was sure he didn't die of thirst....   
In his thoughts, Bruce and Dick's faces followed one another. Perhaps his predecessor would be sad if he were to disappear. As for Bruce, he wasn't so sure, since he had returned from the dead, his relationship with Wayne had been more than tense. Not to mention the two youngest of Wayne's sons. 

He sighed. He had made bad choices in his life. Maybe it wasn't so bad that it was over. The first time, the exit was painful. This time...... He had just fallen asleep. In any case, that's what it seemed to him. He had fallen asleep, waking up here, waiting. He closed his eyes and prayed to all the deities he knew not to see any green light appear. 

The next afternoon, Bruce and Dick went to the hospital where they met the doctor who had taken over Jason's file. The latter was still asleep, not yet out of the coma, the convulsions having caused minor injuries, but it explained why he had still not woken up. The coma could also be explained by the patient's unwillingness to wake up. His vital signs were stable, and even though his blood alcohol level had not yet completely returned to 0, he was no longer in serious condition. All indications were that he should have woken up. Yet, he had not.  
The doctor let them into the room where Jason was staying. Bruce stood on the doorstep, when Dick approached the bed where his brother was lying, and watched him for a moment before collapsing into the chair next to him.   
Jason was pale, his features inexpressive. He wasn't himself. He didn't recognize his brother, he wanted to see him laugh, smile, get angry, scream, anything, any emotion, no matter what, he couldn't bear to see Jason so motionless, so... so weak, so vulnerable.   
In rage, Dick wanted to shake him up, scream in his face to wake up, hit him until he opened his eyes, he wanted to destroy everything that fell into his hands in this sanitized room. His brother had no place here, he had no right to be here, he had no right to make him feel that pain, that rage.   
Dick put his right hand on his eyes and swallowed his tears. He wouldn't move from this room. He wouldn't move from that chair until his little brother opened his eyes, or finally let go. 

Bruce was still in the door frame. He didn't want, no, couldn't get into that room. He cleared his throat, and he turned around on his heels. He went to the doctor and asked him for more details about his son's condition and what could be done. He was not a patient man when it came to his children, and being told by the medical profession that he had to be patient made him angry. How dare they? How could he go home, go about his business, have a normal life, when nothing else was?   
His son, his child was lying in a hospital bed, and he had to be patient? He clenched his fists and left the hospital, not passing Jason's room again, and not warning his eldest son of his departure.   
He knew Dick well enough to know that he would not leave his brother's bedside, not even if the hospital was in flames. 

Jason, was still alone in the darkness, he was still waiting. He had tried to get up but couldn't, and his bottle still didn't want to stay full when he tried to drink. He had tried to call for help, but no one answered. He called Roy, and Dick, but that didn't work either. By dint of thinking, brainstorming, letting his thoughts wander, he had established without the slightest proof as to the veracity of his reasoning, that he was in purgatory awaiting his judgment. He was surprised that it took so long, he had not been an angel in his lifetime. So he concluded that there must have been a disaster before he arrived, and that there was a line to decide who was going to heaven or hell.   
This idea, although morbid, had made him laugh for a while, before he realized the real reason why he could have ended up in the limbo waiting room. He had always imagined himself strong, independent. Until Roy died.   
He was sad, he was alone, and he wanted his feelings to disappear. He wanted everything to disappear, he wanted to disappear at all. It wasn't a binge drinking that went wrong. He drank himself to death. Literally. 

He closed his eyes, and thought of Dick. If all this was really the result of his death by alcohol poisoning, he wondered if his brother would ever forgive him. Probably not. Dick, despite the sadness, would certainly be angry with him until the end. He would be angry that he didn't come to see him, that he didn't confide in him, and especially that he left like that. Dick would feel guilty too. He would regret not having visited earlier, not having intervened, not having insisted. 

With some if we would put Paris in a bottle... 

He sighed again, reopened his eyes, and observed his bottle one last time. Dick was going to hate him, but he knew there was nothing for him in Gotham. He had no friends, no life. It was better that way in the end. It wouldn't usually change much. He just regretted that Dick was probably mad at him.   
He turned his head to the left when he heard a door open in the distance and footsteps approaching. He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and exhaled with anticipation. The moment of truth was near.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I am back with the second chapter. I am going to be honest here, I had difficulties writing this, but .... I made it :) 
> 
> I hope you like it.

Jason opened his eyes and stretched. He was no longer in his kitchen, but lying on one of the couches in the mansion. He sighed and shut his eyes. At least he wasn't in the dark anymore, and the bottle he was holding in his hand a few minutes before was gone.   
He opened his eyes again, and stood up, looking around. No one in sight, the mansion was strangely empty. He got up and walked towards the double door and tried to open it in vain. Great. So either someone was playing a bad joke on him... or he had overestimated how dangerous his excessive consumption of whisky had been. At worst ... Coma. At best, he was hallucinating.   
Let's face it, he was inclined to think he was in a coma. He had had his share of hallucinations in the past, and it was nothing like anything he had ever experienced before. He ran his hand through his hair with his eyes glued to the floor and eventually returned to sit on the couch. That's when he began to hear it. 

He had to stretch out his hearing, but it was there. A voice, a familiar whisper, which seemed to speak to him.   
He closed his eyes and focused on the whisper... 

"... Never had to stop. I should've made sure... to.... I don't know... oh little wing..... »

Dick. Dick was talking to him. Which confirmed the coma theory. Fuck. 

Richard Grayson, older sibling, was sitting by his younger brother's bedside. Jason was pale, and didn't seem to respond to Dick's presence or words. It had been several days since the young man had been admitted to the hospital, and although his body had finally been cleared of the large amount of alcohol that had been poisoning him, the trauma had been violent. Jason did not wake up, and despite the doctors' best efforts, Jason was now in control of his own fate.   
Dick squeezed his brother's right hand in his own, and was talking to him. He was emptying his heart, his feelings of guilt were so intense that he couldn't help himself. He should have called his brother, insisted, broken down the door of the various safehouses he had in town, tracked him down and dragged him out of the hellish spiral that had put him in this situation. Dick blamed himself. He hadn't been a good big brother, he hadn't been there enough for Jason. He hadn't seen the signs, hadn't been able to get close enough to his brother to help him keep his head above water. He had a lump in his throat, and tears in his eyes, and he knew ... he knew it was too late and that he couldn't take it back, he knew there was little chance his brother would hear him, but he wanted to at least try. If there was even a small chance that Jason could hear him and come back to them, to him, he wouldn't stop talking. He still preferred to become voiceless than to leave his brother surrounded by silence and loneliness. 

Jason had already walked around the living room six times and was getting tired of the decor. He could hear his brother in bits and pieces, and as much as possible, he tried to block Dick's voice. He didn't want to hear Dick's monologue, he didn't want to hear the guilt or the desperation his elder brother was in. He did want to scream in his face that he had nothing to blame himself for and that Jason was old enough to know what he was doing, especially when it came to drowning his sorrows in alcohol. Especially when it came to silencing the pain, anger and loneliness once and for all. 

Jason stood still. The realization of what he had just thought hit him hard. 

It hadn't been an accident, he hadn't accidentally had too much to drink. He had wanted to end it all.   
He swallowed with difficulty, and with more difficulty, he went back to the couch he'd been on earlier.   
He wanted to end it all. He had the will to die. He did. He who'd made so many morbid jokes about his own death at the hands of the deranged clown who'd been ruining Bruce's life for years. He who had made just as many morbid jokes about his resurrection and the ability he had had to come back from the dead. He who had so many times enraged his brothers by throwing in their faces that a zombie like him couldn't die.   
The loss of Roy had been a shock. A shock so terrible that he had lied to himself and slowly but surely started on a path to suicide.   
His best friend had died and he had nothing left. His family treated him like a nuisance, Dick was the least resistant to his presence, but let's be honest, Dick was so optimistic about everything that he became helpless. He didn't have much to hold on to in his life. And if he was truly honest with himself, he would have been better off dead the first time he'd crossed over the veil. Certainly would have been less of a problem for everyone. 

"You know very well that's not true. Stop feeling sorry for yourself like that. »

Jason straightened up in a flash and his eyes immediately fell on the person in the living room with him. Bruce was sitting in one of the armchairs in front of him. Not Batman, not Gotham's favorite playboy. Just Bruce. 

"What are you doing here, B? »

Bruce shrugged his shoulders with a small amused smile. 

"Apparently I'm playing the role of the optimistic, down-to-earth voice that you haven't heard for years. »  
"Bullshit"  
"Language Jason. You know I don't like it when you're rude like that. Alfred might hear us. » 

A long silence set in and was only broken when Bruce spoke again. 

"I'm surprised it's me who's here with you. I would have bet it all on Roy. Your best friend, who comes to you in your last moments to convince you that life is worth living, that you have a loving family here for you..."  
"Roy's not that stupid. »  
"But I am? Does it look like me what's happening? »

Jason riveted his gaze to the ground. 

"No, it doesn't. Not really. »  
"Exactly. Do you remember the first time you came to the mansion? Alfred waiting for us with a hot meal, the indigestion you had after swallowing your plate as if your life depended on it... The hours spent together doing your homework, our patrols, the movie and popcorn sessions on nights when we weren't out, Alfred watching over us? »  
"What do you want, Bruce? Convince me that before I died the first time, I had a few years of happiness? »

Visibly annoyed, Jason got up and started pacing around the room. 

"I already know that. I also know that when I finally managed to have a more or less normal life, I don't count being Robin, I got butchered by a psycho clown. Slaughtered Bruce!!! Tortured, beaten, knocked out, burned, you name it! I begged, I cried, I wanted you to be there, I wanted you to come and save me and it never happened. Do you know what happened in the end? The moment I realized it was time and I only had a few minutes left to live and you weren't coming to save me? »

Bruce, or rather Jason's portrayal of Bruce, did not answer, keeping his gaze fixed on the young man. 

"I felt relieved. I was filled with this euphoria, this uncontrollable laughter because it was finally over. Almost all my bones were broken, and yet I found a way to laugh because of the joy of knowing that I was finally going to be free of pain. That the nightmare was over. »  
"I'm sorry, Jason."  
"Sorry? Maybe I should have been rescued, or the immortal psychopath who serves as your father-in-law should have been prevented from resurrecting me, or better yet, I should have been killed once the psychopath in question brought me back from the dead. Yes, that would have been a good idea, a good way to amend the monumental mistake you made the day you decided to get me out of the rat hole you found me in, and make me believe I could have a happy life. »

Dick refused to leave his brother's bedside. The medical staff had gotten used to the idea, and they were no longer surprised to see him constantly in the room when they came to check on the patient, or take care of him. The only constant was Dick. From time to time, a quiet, short-haired young woman would come and sit next to the eldest son of the Wayne family. She didn't speak, just observed the unconscious body... When she left, she would kiss the patient's forehead and whisper a few words in his ear, but none of the medical staff knew what she could say to him. The nurses felt bad for Dick. Seeing this young man in such sadness broke their hearts. They knew this kind of situation, it wasn't the first time they had been in this position, but the contrast between the smiling and laughing young man they were used to seeing on the front page of the newspapers and the one who was crying at his brother's bedside was hard to see. The other Wayne children hadn't come to visit Jason, and the few times Bruce made an appearance at the hospital, he could be seen on the doorstep of the room his son was in. He couldn't get in, and usually he could only observe him for a few minutes before leaving in a hurry, as if a pack of wild dogs were chasing him. Dick knew.   
Dick knew that seeing Jason in that hospital bed brought back painful memories. Bruce's greatest failure had been to let Jason die at the Joker's hands. And history was repeating itself. This time, his own carelessness had been the weapon that had brought Jason to the brink of death. He couldn't face it, he couldn't cope, Bruce couldn't cope. 

Jason had resumed his pacing in the living room... Strangely, he wasn't angry. He was tired. Tired of the situation, caught in the middle. He just wanted to get it over with. Move to the other side, no matter what lay ahead, be it hell, heaven, or nothingness. He didn't care anymore. 

"Jason. Dick's talking to you. »   
"I know. He still feels guilty about something that's not his fault. He always does. He can't understand that certain actions, certain events are not his fault and that he has nothing to blame himself for, and that he has nothing to feel guilty about. His litany is annoying at best. »  
"He wasn't there. The first time. You know... when you passed away. He didn't find out until two weeks later, I think. He always blamed himself. You were young, he should have been there to help you, to support you in your new role, but his pride got in the way. When you came back, he tried to connect with you, to compensate, to forgive himself. »  
"Dick is not responsible for what happened. »   
"Dick is a protective big brother who couldn't save his little brother when he died, and couldn't save him from going through with it."  
"Going through with it? »  
"Please, Jason, I'm in your head. We both know you made a decision to end it all. You just haven't thought about Dick's reaction. The others may not be the ones you think of to begin with, but Dick... Dick's here. Always in the corner of your mind. He's the one you replaced, the one you admired, the one who despite your protests, hugs you when he senses something's wrong. He's your brother. And no matter how hard you try to lie to yourself, you know you love him. And you know you're going to hurt him. And I know that because you've thought about it. You know that the guilt your brother feels is deep and it's gonna be with him for the rest of his life. »

Jason sits on the couch facing Bruce. He was trembling, and refused to look in the direction of his adopted father. 

"Dick will be fine. He's a big boy. He's gonna be okay. »   
"You know very well that's not true. »  
"Stop it. »  
"Stop what?"

And just like that, Jason started crying. Silently, eyes glued to the ground, elbows on his knees, and fingers grabbing his hair. 

"You only have two choices now. »  
"What choices? I'm stuck in this fucking room talking to myself, waiting for my brain to give out. »

Jason wiped away the tears that had run down his cheeks and cleared his throat. He gritted his teeth when he felt the tears rising again and sniffed. 

"As I was saying, you have two choices: either you stay here until your brain gives out, as you say so well, or .... Or you can open your eyes. You open your eyes and go back to your family, to Dick. »  
"Dick must hate me right now. »   
"Hm .... He hates you so much that he's been talking to you nonstop for hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and..."  
" All right, all right, I get it!! »

Jason was silent for a moment before he sighed. 

"What choice will you make? Stay or surface? »  
"Why should I make this choice? Why me?"   
"Because you're the one who got yourself into this situation in the first place. You chose suicide, you half screwed up, and now you have to choose between death, final this time, or life. Knowing that Dick is waiting for you, and if you don't wake up, chances are he'll never forgive himself. »

Jason groaned. 

"I get the feeling your judgment's a little biased on the issue. »  
"I'm you, just looking like Bruce. Draw the appropriate conclusions. »  
"Fuck. »

The hospital room was plunged into darkness, it had been night for a while now. The sound of the heart monitor was only accompanied by the sound of Dick's breathing, asleep in the chair next to his brother's bed. His hand was still holding the hand of his brother.   
When Jason awoke, he blinked several times and turned his head to the left, towards his brother and squeezed the hand that was holding his. 

"Dick..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I am back again. I managed to advance a lot on this fic, and I am quite happy with it :) 
> 
> Here is the new chapter, with a new event and a change of scenery. 
> 
> The next chapter is already almost finished, and I hope you will like this one.

Dick was exhausted. He had spent the day, and much of the evening, talking tirelessly to his brother, stopping momentarily only to drink a little water. The ragged nerves, the broken heart, the broken voice, and the lack of sleep had finally got the better of him, so much so that when Jason finally opened his eyes, he was deeply asleep. He didn't immediately feel the pressure on his hand, or even Jason's hoarse voice calling out to him. His dreamless sleep was just too deep. And then rushing footsteps made him wince in his sleep. Voices he didn't recognize began to rise and finally he was pulled from his slumber by a nurse who shook him and ordered him out of the room. Still half asleep, he could only partially grasp what the nurse was saying to him. Until he understood the words that finally woke him up before the door to his brother's room was slammed in his face. 

"...Your brother .... " ...is awake ... " " ...protocol ..."

Dick was frozen for half a second before he grabbed the phone in his pocket with shaky hands. He didn't hesitate despite the late hour and immediately called Bruce. 

"B it' s me. Jason has woken up!!! The nurses threw me out, but he's awake!!! »

Bruce's response did not come immediately, a long silence preceding it. 

"I'm on my way. »

The wait seemed extremely long to Dick, who began pacing up and down the corridor.He didn't calm down with the arrival of Bruce, on whom he jumped as soon as he turned the corner of the corridor leading to Jason's room. The two men didn't speak to each other, but had to wait impatiently until the first aid and tests had been performed on the patient to see the first members of the nursing staff leave.   
The doctor ended up leaving the room on himself, closing the door behind him, and took them aside.

"Mr. Wayne. Regarding your son's condition, I don't wish to give you false hope. Contrary to popular belief, opening your eyes does not mean total regaining of consciousness. Right now all I can tell you is that he's out of a deep coma. We have conducted tests and stimuli to determine whether your son Jason was in a vegetative state, or a state of minimal consciousness. At this time the results are not yet clear, but further tests are scheduled in the morning to determine this. You should know, however, that his condition is still stable and is not expected to deteriorate. Tomorrow we will be able to give you more information about possible injuries due to the large amount of alcohol consumed. »

Bruce just shook his head, indicating to the doctor that he understood what he had just told him. By his side, Dick had lost what little hope he had. Jason had opened his eyes, but he might not respond to stimuli. Which meant his brother wasn't quite with them yet. He felt exhausted again, and overwhelmed. The adrenaline rush he'd had when he thought he'd finally got a chance to see his brother as he'd been before, his twisted smile, his grin, his lame jokes ... no, he was going to have to be patient again. 

"Mr. Wayne, I also need to talk to you about the fact that the deep coma that was preceded by your son's alcohol coma and its likely correlation with a suicide attempt is subject to a specific protocol. Acute alcoholism may reveal an underlying depressive syndrome, so in those circumstances we're going to need to put in place a psychiatric assessment for your son as soon as his normal relational functions recover. »

Bruce gave the doctor his consent, and the doctor took his leave. Dick had finally settled down in a seat nearby, shaken by the doctor's speech. He had been naive, he had imagined that he could bring Jason back to the mansion as soon as he woke up, he had imagined that he could stay with him while he recovered, be there, help him talk. It would seem, however, that reality was less in line with his wishes. Jason was going to stay in the hospital. First to finish his coma recovery, then for his psychological evaluation, and then, who knows...   
Dick just wanted his little brother to come home. He wanted to be able to tell himself that Jason was peacefully asleep, safe, protected and loved in the room next to his. That he wasn't far away, in a sterile and alien environment, but that he was home.   
Jason wouldn't be home for a long time. 

"Dick. Come home with me. Take a shower, get something to eat and we'll come back in the morning. There's nothing more we can do. »   
"No, I..."  
"Dick. »

The young man sighed. He didn't want to leave, he wanted to stay with Jason, he had lost him once before, and had come close to a second disaster. What if something happened to him while he was at the mansion?   
His thoughts went blank when Bruce took him in his arms. Dick could feel the tension tying his adoptive father's muscles. At that very moment he could have burst into tears like when he was a child. He could have cried his eyes out, screaming and yelling his pain, but he just hid his face against the black wool coat Bruce was wearing. They stayed like this for a few minutes before separating without a word, and after a last glance towards the door of the hospital room, headed for the exit and then towards the mansion. 

The two men did not exchange a word on the way back, and as soon as they arrived Dick immediately went to his room, letting Bruce explain the situation to Alfred who was waiting for them. The young man hastily got rid of his clothes and slipped into the shower, repeating the doctor's words. 

The next day, the verdict came down. Jason was in a minimal state of consciousness. Besides the fact that the news was reassuring, it meant that he could respond to external stimuli. He wasn't speaking yet, but when Dick took his brother's hand in his own and called out his name and asked him to squeeze his hand if he could hear him, Jason squeezed his hand back. It wasn't much, but for Dick this simple reaction made all the difference. His brother was there. Jason was there. It took another good week for his condition to evolve into the first relational manifestation and for the young man to be fully aware that he wasn't simply responding to a command but that he had a interlocutor. It took another two and a half weeks before Jason finally returned to what the doctors called a normal state, that is, verbal communication was restored and the young man became truly aware of his situation and his environment. 

The return to reality was abrupt. Although the first phase of withdrawal took place during his coma period, and the threat of a potential delirium tremens was remote, the effects of his long and excessive consumption of alcohol to stem the depression following the death of his best friend, resurfaced. Mild withdrawal and insomnia were evident. The physical symptoms of Jason's depression were difficult to assess due to his recent coma, however, the results of the psychological evaluation, which was set up shortly after his return to "normal", clearly indicated that the young man was in a state of great suffering and that he was still at risk in terms of committing suicide. 

To prevent a new tragedy from occurring, Bruce, still accompanied by Dick, who refused to be removed from the discussions, spoke at length with the doctors who were taking care of Jason's case. They all came to the conclusion that the young man should be given psychological follow-up, and Arkham not being an appropriate structure for the situation, it was decided to send Jason to the State Psychiatric Hospital in Metropolis.  
The young man, already apathetic, did not make a fuss when the transfer was announced to him or even during the transfer itself. He was quickly taken in charge and installed in a single room, an exact replica of the ten or so others which made up corridor C of the wing into which he had been admitted.   
He didn't care about the transfer, he saw little difference between Gotham and Metropolis, he was alone in a hospital room, and Roy was still dead while he was still very much alive. And alone. And again... Only the sun of the city protected by Superman, filtering through the glass of his new living environment, made a significant difference, but beyond that, the white walls, the linoleum floor, the smiling, attentive, silent staff remained the same. He missed Dick's presence.   
Strangely, his older brother hadn't asked him any questions. He hadn't asked him why, he hadn't yelled at him, he hadn't hit him. He had just been there, clingy at times, but he had never tried to get him to talk or explain himself. He just stood right next to him, holding his hand. Without Dick next to him, Jason felt disoriented for the first time in a long time. 

On the day he moved in, his next room neighbour had come to visit him. He was a young man about his age, short hair, pale blond and a little dull. He too was pale, he too had dark circles under his eyes. He knocked gently on the open bedroom door to announce himself and introduced himself to Jason, telling him that he would be in the same talking group several days in the week. 

"How do you know we'll be in the same group? »  
"It's pretty easy. It's because of our hallway. You know what we call it? It's the dormitory of the selfish. »  
"The dormitory of the selfish? I don't get it."  
"This is the dormitory of those who tried to commit suicide but didn't make it. Hence, the dormitory of the selfish."  
"Oh."

Corridor "C" was aptly named, as Jason found out pretty quickly. His roommate was right. All the residents in his hallway met four times a week in the common room to discuss as a group what had led them to commit suicide. Some were more open than others, and the goal was to open up little by little so that they could finally tell their story, their life story. There was no judgment, no exasperated sighing or mocking laughter. Only wounded souls, who recognized each other. There were also individual sessions with a psychologist, group activities, manual arts. But Jason's favorite time was in the afternoon, when they had the opportunity to go for a walk in the garden that bordered their building. It wasn't much, just a patch of grass, with spots of dry herb, a few benches, two or three tables with odd chairs, and weeds here and there. It wasn't much indeed, but for Jason, from the very first day, he knew that this moment spent in the garden getting some fresh air was going to become his daily moment of happiness. 

The first day ended quite quickly, and he soon fell into a routine. In the morning he got up at the stroke of 7:00 a.m., washed, dressed, and went to the dining hall to have breakfast with the other patients in his hallway. After breakfast, the discussion group would meet, every day except Wednesday. Instead, they watched a movie together. After the discussion group, lunch, then two hours of arts and crafts, then the garden. Those who wanted to, and who were no longer a risk to themselves or others, could volunteer to help in the kitchen or in the library of their building. Afterwards, dinner was served, usually followed by a final group activity, and then back to their rooms for the night. Twice a week he had a point with his psychologist, and once in the morning, once in the evening, he had his treatment to take. Life in his hallway was peaceful. More peaceful than he ever imagined his life to be. The feeling of loss was always there, the depression, and the sadness too, but he was peaceful. The violence, the stress, the physical pain, it was all gone. Being forced to momentarily give up his double life had lifted a burden from him.

The first month went by quickly enough, he had not yet been able to speak in the focus groups, but he was beginning to feel more comfortable and as he looked at the others, the relief they were feeling, he came to believe that he too could share the loss of Roy. Of course, he would have to leave out a few details, as he already did during his individual sessions with Dr. Lambert, but it was not impossible. He and Roy were friends outside of their lives as vigilantes after all. He could talk about it, describe to them which friend Roy was, what he himself had gone through, his addiction, his descent into hell, and his meteoric rise to recovery. His joy and infectious smile. His stupid ideas that always got them into trouble because they were stupid and stubborn enough to carry them out even though they knew they were not good ideas. Roy's relapse too... And finally that last time he had seen him before his best friend abandoned him forever. He was sitting on a bench in the garden in the sunshine reading one of the books he had borrowed from the library in his building when one of the nurses came to pick him up to tell him he had a visitor. It was the first time since he'd been transferred to Metropolis that anyone had come to see him. He closed his book and followed the nurse, who took him to a small room, which looked like a dining hall, and sat down at one of the tables to wait for his visitor to enter the room. He was playing with the worn edge of the cover of his book when someone finally came to sit down in front of him. 

"Hello, Jason. It's been a long time. How have you been? »

The young man stared at his visitor for a moment, before lowering his eyes slightly and smiling. 

"Hey, Clark... long time no see."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. 
> 
> Here is the next chapter. I hope you will like it :)

Jason hadn't thought about it until now, but from what he knew, only his family members knew he was hospitalized in Metropolis, and knew the reasons for his hospitalization. He strongly doubted that Bruce had said anything about him to Clark, nor would he have been Dick's first choice as a confidant. He had no explanation for the superhero's presence in plain clothes in front of him in the visitors' room. 

"What brings you here?"

With his fingertips, the reporter pulled up his glasses, which had slipped slightly off his nose, and gave the young man a warm smile. 

"I was in the neighborhood the other day and saw you reading on a bench. I thought I might pay you a visit. If you agreed to see me, of course. »

The garden was surrounded by high stone walls that prevented residents from seeing the road below. It was highly unlikely that Clark would have seen him as he walked through the neighbourhood; the only way he could have learned of his presence in his town without Bruce's intervention would have been to have seen him flying over the hospital garden. This idea warmed his heart. That Superman spotted him while flying over Metropolis and decided to visit him, not as his superself but as Clark, the slightly awkward reporter with the sparkling eyes and infectious smile, made him strangely happy.

"Thank you," he said. You're the first visitor I've had since I was transferred here. »

Clark frowned slightly for a moment before relaxing again. 

"How long have you been in Metropolis? »

Jason noted with gratitude that his visitor had not mentioned the hospital. 

"For a little over a month now. Bruce's decision. Dick wasn't thrilled, but ... It was Metropolis or Arkham. I prefer Metropolis. More sunlight... "   
"And fewer lunatics in costumes? »   
"And fewer lunatics in costumes, yes."

Jason sketched out a new smile. Talking with Clark was easy, he didn't have the stress, the usual pressure he had when he was talking to Bruce, or that scathing sense of guilt when he was looking at Dick. 

"When you get better, and you want to stretch your legs, I could take you on a tour of the city. There are a few places I know that I'm sure you'd like. I have a membership at the Metropolis library, I'm sure if I ask nicely, I could get you in at night. »  
" Sounds good, really, but I ain't going out yet. I still have some progress to make. And by now you know me, I was raised by B, communication... We're not super good at it. »   
"Hm .... I'm sorry, but you as know his grunts are actually condensed sentences. It's all about intonation. »

Jason let out a slight laugh. Yeah, no, really, talking to Clark was easy. 

"How are things at the Daily Planet? Still looking for breaking news? We don't have access to information here, so i can't really keep up with what's going on. »  
"It's going pretty well. Our editor Perry almost had a heart attack when Lois announced she was going across the country after being poached by another newspaper, and Jimmy continues to climb the ladder, his camera always ready. »  
"I'm sorry about Lois. It' good for her I'm not saying I'm not happy for her, but... are you okay?"

Jason saw Clark lightly chew on the inside of his cheek for a moment before he began to speak again. 

"I'm fine. I'm fine. I've had time to get used to the idea. The apartment seems a little empty now, but I'm keeping busy. »  
"If you have some free time and are bored, you are welcome here, and if the visits are over, my room is the fourth from the back of the wing, the third corridor that leads to the inner courtyard. »

This time it was Clark who let out a laugh. 

"Duly noted. And if you have the opportunity and/or the ability and/or the inclination... » 

Clark grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from his briefcase, scribbled on it and handed it to Jason. 

"Feel free to contact me, I'll be listening."

He punctuated his sentence with a wink that snatched a smile from the young man. The phone number would be helpful, but knowing that Superman would be listening if he ever just talked to him from a distance, made his cheeks turn red. 

" Thank you, Clark. »  
"No problem, Jason. Again, don't hesitate. »

Clark took Jason's hand in his and squeezed it gently before getting up and saying goodbye. Jason sat there for a moment before the nurse came back to pick him up and bring him back to the common room. Lost in his thoughts, Jason instinctively walked over to the bench he liked and sat down. He could still feel the warmth of Clark's hand on his. His voice was calm and composed, the sense of tranquility that emanated from him. The reporter was the antithesis of Bruce. 

In the days that followed, Jason gathered his courage and finally began to speak during the group session. He didn't unpack the whole story at once, but he did talk about Roy. About their friendship, their bond. The little he had been able to share had shaken him, and a ball had formed in his throat. After that, he had taken refuge in the first book he found and hadn't talked all day. When evening came, lying in bed, his eyes glued to the ceiling, he began to murmur. 

"Clark ... . . .I was able to speak in group today. I don't think Bruce told you why I was sent to Metropolis, but . . . To make a long story short, it's a big deal for me to be able to talk about Roy to strangers without getting angry, grab the first bottle of booze that I can find and drown myself in it. Literally. I was just able to tell them about Roy, not about his addiction, or how he died, or my addiction, or how I tried to kill myself. It doesn't sound like much, but... even with Dr. Lambert, I couldn't get it all out in the open. Every time I start to talk about it... » 

His voice broke, and tears filled his eyes. Without his bottle, he had no buffer, without Bruce, he had no stress or anger, he had to deal with sadness. 

"Every time I try to talk about it, I have this lump that forms in my throat that prevents me from talking. I feel like crying until I'm completely dehydrated. I'm not even angry anymore... My only friend is dead, and I'm alone. I just want to disappear. »

Jason wiped his wet cheek with the back of his hand and swung to the right side facing the window, one arm bent at his waist, the other tucked under the pillow.

"Sorry," he said. "I tried to be strong. After I got back, after the Lazarus Pit... it was hard. I was angry, enraged, I wanted to destroy everything in my path. I was angry at Bruce for not coming to save me. I wanted to hurt him, I wanted him to pay. I'm sorry,I'm sorry,I'm sorry, I... I don't want you to think I'm a bad person. I know I'm not like the others, Babs, Cass, Steph, Dick, Tim ... They're what's expected of them. Me ... I ... I don't obey B rules, I'm not a good person I know that, I ... I think maybe it would have been easier not to bring me back the first time. Wouldn't it have been easier?"

Jason closed his eyes, he was tired. Strangely enough, talking into the void, even though he knew there was a 50/50 chance that Clark wouldn't really listen to him, made him feel better. He felt lighter. It was easier and more natural for him to talk to Clark than to talk to his doctor, or to the support group. It made him feel better. He wasn't out of the woods yet, far from it, but it was a start. He avoided thinking about the fact that Clark might not want to listen to his torment, he buried his doubts deeply and eventually fell asleep.

The next day, after the discussion group, after lunch and before he could go to the garden, one of the nurses came to pick him up and accompany him to the visiting room. He sat down at one of the tables, anxious. He was fidgeting, but stopped when he heard the door open and saw Clark enter the room. The reporter, like the first time, walked up to sit across from him and smiled at him. 

"Hello, Jason. »  
"Hey, Clark. » 

The young man remained silent, avoiding looking at his visitor, feeling uncomfortable. 

"You know, Jason, there are few people who can brag about being able to live as long as you did around Bruce without feeling like strangling him. On average, Diana wants to punch him in the face three times per meeting. Sometimes, when I see the two of you interacting, I wonder how you don't end up in a fistfight, with Hank taking bets on the side. »

Clark's remark brought a smile to Jason's face. 

"Bruce is ... Sometimes hard to live with. »  
"That's an understatement. But he doesn't have a bad core. Just like you don't have a bad core. »  
"...you heard me then..."  
"I told you. I'm listening, Jason. Whatever you want to talk about, whether it's what happened, or the weather, or the quality of the food here, I'm here. »  
"I can't complain, the food's pretty good honestly, although I have to admit, they still have some progress to make on the vanilla custard. »

The reporter smiles in return. 

"I see, maybe I could write a column on the quality of the vanilla custard then.   
"Aha, I'm not sure that's necessary, but thank you. I think we should be able to manage. And thank you... you know... for listening. »

Clark grabbed Jason's hand, which immediately tense and relaxed almost instantly. 

"If ... If you don't mind... ...maybe I could talk to you about Roy?"

The reporter gave him a reassuring smile and a squeeze of his hand encouraged him.   
Jason began to tell him about his first meeting with his late best friend.He told him how they had grown closer, the dangerous and stupid situations they had gotten into, the formation of his trio, him, Roy and Kori. He told him about the insidious way Roy's addiction had developed, the evenings spent with his friend trying to help him, the failures, and the relapses. After two hours of talking and being listened to, the nurse interrupted them. It was time for Clark to leave, and for Jason to enjoy the garden with the other patients. He watched the reporter leave and reluctantly went to sit on his favorite bench. He sighed deeply, looked up and turned his face to the sky, letting the sun's rays warm him up. Eventually he opened his eyes again, watched the clouds drift lazily in the Metropolis sky, before turning his gaze upwards to the buildings on the other side of the wall surrounding the garden. He squinted his eyes, and muffled a small laugh. Above the large gray office tower, he could discern a red and blue stain. Clark was close by. He smiled broadly, closed his eyes, tilted his head back and repressed the tears that were rising. Clark was there, close.

Soon, a new routine started to set in Jason's life. Every other day Clark would come to visit him at the hospital, they'd talk about anything and everything, and also about Jason, Roy, Clark and his career, the articles he'd written, until Jason finally told him about what had led him to drink, and then about his desperate act.   
Clark had always been smiling, laughing, and a luminous gaze. But when Jason told him about his suicide attempt, the reporter's eyes were suddenly tern. The pressure of his hand on Jason's hand grew stronger. Clearly, the young man's story did not leave him indifferent. A silence fell after the description of his waking up in the hospital. 

"I'm sorry," he said. I didn't mean to..."  
"You have nothing to blame yourself for, Jason. And there's nothing you should feel sorry for. Look at me, Jason. »

The young man looked up at Clark. 

"Do you hear me? Repeat after me: I shouldn't feel sorry for what I'm feeling. »

Jason remained silent, biting his lip, his leg starting to shake. 

"Jason, repeat after me... I shouldn't feel sorry for what I'm feeling. "  
"Jedevpamestirdespens ... »  
"Jason... »  
"Okay, okay, okay... I shouldn't feel sorry for how I feel. »  
"Once again. »  
"Oh come on Clark ! »   
"Jason... again. »  
"I shouldn't feel sorry for what I'm feeling. »  
"Again"  
"I shouldn't feel sorry for what I'm feeling. »  
"And why is that? »  
" .................... because I have nothing to blame myself for. »

The smile on Clark's face made him blush and made his stomach tighten up. As he met the journalist he had started to get better. He had even talked about Clark to the psychologist who was following him during their individual sessions. How good it felt to talk to the journalist, or how it felt just to be in the room with him.   
Before that, Clark was Bruce's teammate, he was Superman, Dick's hero, he was this superhero that Jason respected and feared a little bit sometimes. Now... Clark was the one who reached out to him. He was the one who visited him regularly and was able to make him smile and laugh. He was the one person who didn't twist his words or push him into a corner, he was the one who, when he arrived in the visitors' room, made his heart beat faster, and made his fingertips tingle when he took his hand.Clark was, without exaggerating, his savior. 

Jason knew fully well that if the reporter hadn't visited him, if he hadn't been there to listen to him with his legendary patience and kindness out of this world, he wouldn't have been able to make any progress. Or at least not as quickly. It had already been six months now since he had been transferred to Metropolis, and he hardly felt the lack of alcohol anymore, and his state of mind, his grief for Roy had finally started to recede.

Dr. Lambert had explained to him his progress that very morning, and had described, using their past sessions as an example, his journey. Now he was at the stage of acceptance. Clark's visits had helped in the healing process of his depression, and he had gone through group activities, crafts and his individual sessions to get him into the rebuilding phase. He had opened up to others, he had accepted new activities, he was thriving and had moved slowly but surely towards acceptance. He was still in the early stages, but soon... soon he could get out. Of course, it would take the final agreement of his guardian, Bruce, for him to leave the hospital for good, but in the meantime, day or even night outings under the supervision of a trusted person could be considered. And Jason knew from his psychiatrist that Clark fit the criteria and that he had already been contacted to act as Jason's chaperone. 

Maybe Clark could get him out of the hospital, even if it was just for a day. Just the two of us for a day. In Metropolis, outside the hospital.   
That thought made him smile. And hope.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all :) 
> 
> Here is the next chapter ! I'm a bit late with the update, I was caught up in a crochet project I have for mother's day and forgot I was supposed to update today. I'm so sorry.
> 
> I hoe you like this chapter :)

Clark had just gotten home from the Daily Planet when someone knocked on his door. He sighed, took off his jacket and went to open it, only to find himself face to face with Bruce, accompanied by Dick. He invited them in after repressing another sigh, and closed the door behind them. 

"Clark. »  
"Good evening, Uncle Clark. »  
"Bruce, Dick. What brings you to Metropolis? »  
"We're here about Jason. »  
The journalist offered them a seat at the kitchen table, and offered them a beer, which they accepted half-heartedly, visibly in a hurry to finish with what they had to say.Clark undid the first two buttons on his shirt and rolled up his sleeves before settling down with them and took a sip of beer before looking at them. 

"What do you want to know, Bruce? »  
"Why did you go see him? And why does his doctor want you to be his chaperone for his supervised outings? »

Dick kept his eyes glued to his beer.He had lost weight Clark could see that and he wasn't wearing his usual smile, he was off. Which was rather odd for the young man. 

"Seriously, Bruce? Jason is isolated in a hospital, in a city that is not his own, and no one, no one, came to visit him or to check on him during his first month in Metropolis. And now that he has the opportunity to breathe the fresh air outside the hospital walls, you come running ? It doesn't work like that, Bruce. You can't just put him away and hope for the best. »  
"Jason is sick. He needs to be isolated for his recovery to go as smoothly as possible. Our presence is unnecessary."   
"Jason is a human being who needs contact to feel surrounded and supported.Not to be isolated and set aside. He's not like you, Bruce. »  
" He' s my son clark. »  
"Your son whom you sent to another city and did not visit. You haven't checked up on him, nothing. You haven't been there for him. I made the decision to go see him because I like Jason. Despite everything that's happened to him, he's a good person. And he obviously enjoys my visits or he wouldn't have wanted to see me in the first place. »

Bruce scowled and didn't say anything for a while. 

"How's he doing? » 

Clark's gaze turned to Dick.

"Better.He's gonna... better. He's calmer, less anxious and sad. He's under less stress too. We've talked a lot, and I think supervised outings would do him a whole lot of good. »  
"You're not a doctor, Clark. »

Dick put his hand over Bruce's forearm, which had just intervened, in an attempt to soothe him. Bruce Wayne obviously didn't like Clark's involvement. 

"Neither do you, Bruce. You may be Jason's guardian while he recovers, but he's still an adult. An adult who's been isolated from his family after committing a desperate act. I reached out to him in his time of need and he took my hand. I will not let go of it now. If he wants me to be his chaperone on his supervised outings, I will be. And you can do whatever you want, we both know that if you refuse him, he won't get out of this hospital, and he may even close down, or worse, regress. »

Bruce grunted to express his displeasure but did not contradict his ally. 

"Uncle Clark... The way we handled Jason's condition ... I ... Jason's in Metropolis. It makes sense that a trusted person based in Metropolis would oversee Jason's outings. I think you're the perfect person for that. Even if Bruce is reluctant, we know it's for the best. Will you just tell him I'm thinking about him? And that Alfred is already preparing his favorite dishes for when he gets home?"

Clark nodded his head while Bruce remained silent.They finished their beer in silence until the two Gothamites took their leave. When Clark closed the door behind them, he sighed.   
He should have known that Bruce, paranoid extraordinaire, would end up knowing everything about his visits to Jason. He should also have known that Bruce wouldn't be happy to see someone else taking care of his ex-Robin instead of him. Control freak much ? The good news was that Dick seemed to agree with the fact that Clark would supervise his brother, but it broke his heart to see the young man usually so animated, so sad. He sat down on his couch and thought about Jason. He had seen the transformation over the months. Even compared to before his descent to hell, he had changed. Before, as a Red Hood, he was angry, his features tense, strained, eyes hard, ruthless. Now, Jason had completely taken a new direction. He looked more like the young boy who had taken over Robin's coat. He was smiling, sometimes laughed with Clark, his features relaxed, and we could now see, Jason's true face. One that matched his age and not the stress of his vigilante life. 

Clark had received a phone call today to plan Jason's first supervised outing date. It should take place on Saturday of this week, the day after tomorrow. Jason hadn't yet been informed that his first outing was coming up, and Clark had asked Dr. Lambert to let him have the privilege. He wanted to see the young man's reaction. He had planned clothes for Jason, and eventually, if the young man didn't know what to do, some ideas for sightseeing and walking around the city. He was looking forward to the next day to visit Jason and tell him the good news.   
But there was one thing in all of this that was bothering him. He had noticed it some time ago and the question posed him an ethical and moral question. 

Jason had become an important part of his life. He had been important to some degree before, but since his regular visits had begun, things had changed. And Clark had discovered to his surprise that he enjoyed the young man's company. He enjoyed spending time with him, talking to him, seeing him laugh, smiling, holding his hand. He sighed again and ran his hands over his face.   
It didn't bode well. He had developed an attraction for the young man, nothing could predict that it would be mutual. And the fact that Jason was young, much younger than he was, should not be overlooked. And Bruce's son. Moreover, it should not be forgotten that, despite his progress, Jason was still fragile. 

The next day, when Clark arrived, Jason noticed that something was not as usual. He still couldn't put his finger on what was different, but he didn't feel like it was a bad thing. He smiled at his visitor, and straightened up in his chair. 

"Hello, Clark."  
"Hello, Jason. How are you today? »  
" All right. I won monopoly last night and we watched pride and prejudice in the common room. It was a pretty good night itself. How about you? »  
" All right, too. I have two things to tell you. The first is that I had a visit from Bruce and Dick last night. »

The young man tensed immediately. 

"Let me guess .... Bruce doesn't want you to come visit me anymore because that arrogant egoist isn't in control? » 

Clark took Jason's hand in his, and the young man began to relax at his touch. 

"I must confess he wasn't thrilled no, however... he soon realized that it wasn't in his best interest to forbid me to visit you. And despite his reluctance... he agreed to let me be your chaperone. And speaking of chaperones... Tomorrow I'll pick you up and we'll spend the day together. Outside these walls, in Metropolis. »

Jason was briefly dumbstruck for a moment. He couldn't believe his ears. Bruce and Dick could kiss his ass. By this time tomorrow he'd be out. He would be out!!! Surely only for the day, but he'd be out! With Clark ! He squeezed the reporter's hand and leaned forward on the table, fixing his eyes on his visitor. 

"Seriously? Tomorrow? Tomorrow we're out all day?"

Clark had a happy laugh. 

"Yes, Jason. Tomorrow, you and I are going out for the day. »

The young man began to fidget in his chair with excitement. 

"This is the best news in the world! I can't believe it! I can't believe it! I ... Clark ! You have no idea ! I could kiss you right now! » 

The two men talked for a long time about the next day's activities until it was time for Clark to leave. Jason returned to the backyard, a smile larger than life clinging to his lips. Tomorrow, he'd be out of here for the whole day. He could wander the streets of Metropolis as if nothing had happened, enjoy the day as he pleased and answer to no one. I mean... ...he would. He would have to answer to Clark. Speaking of Clark, he was gonna spend the whole day with him, and there was no one else he wanted to share that first day of freedom with. And Bruce could grumble and growl and go visit Clark as much as he wanted, but Jason wouldn't let go of the reporter.  
He never imagined, with everything that had happened, that he could still feel that way.The joy he'd felt when Clark told him he could get out of there for a few hours... He closed his eyes and scrunch his nose, thinking back to what he'd told the reporter earlier. He felt embarrassed now, but at the time he really meant it. He really could have kissed him on the spot. 

When Jason woke up the next morning, he was excited. Excited and anxious. He undressed and went into the shower. While soaping up, he wondered if he could skip breakfast in the dining hall so he could have breakfast with Clark outside. He should ask the nurses. He kept his fingers crossed that it would be possible. Smiling, he got out of the shower and got dressed. He greeted his room neighbors, with whom he spent most of his days, and went directly to the common room to ask the nurses there about the possibility of skipping breakfast. The answer he received was positive and always smiling, and he sat at one of the tables, waiting until he was taken to the visiting room.   
The wait was not as long as he had expected, and soon he was able to find Clark, who had dropped the usual suit and tie combination for a pair of jeans, and one of his now famous checked shirts with the sleeves rolled up to elbow level. He greeted Jason with a big smile and handed him a bag.

"Hello, Jason. I thought you could use some clothes. I'm not much of a shopper, so I took the liberty of taking from my wardrobe. »

Jason thanked him and slipped out to change. By the time he returned to the visiting room, the stress and anxiety had evaporated. He didn't know if it was the fact that when he saw Clark he had realized that his temporary release was really going to happen, or it was the smell of clean laundry emanating from the clothes. Either way, he was just cheerful, and the smile he couldn't hide was evidence of that. The two men were escorted back to the exit and Jason was finally able to step out. 

The day was shaping up to be beautiful and warm. The sky was clear, the sun was shining, a typical August day. But after spending many months in the hospital, this day was exceptional. 

"How are you feeling, Jason?"

The young man didn't answer, he turned to Clark and did the only thing that would convey the gratitude he felt for the reporter. He took him in his arms. They stayed like that for a few minutes before Jason released Clark with an apology. 

"Remember, Jason, there's nothing you need to apologize for. »

The young man nodded and followed the journalist who took him to the parking lot where his car was parked. 

"Well ... Now that you're out, any idea what you want to do? I'm completely at your service today. Whatever you want to do, let's do it. »  
"Thank you, Clark. You have no idea how good it feels to get out. Is that ... Have you had breakfast yet? I asked the nurse if I could skip it in the cafeteria this morning just so I could have it outside... "

Clark burst out laughing and started the car.

"In that case, I suggest you either go to a nearby café or ... go to my house for a homemade breakfast, during which we can go over the list we made yesterday to decide how we're going to spend the day. »   
"Homemade breakfast sounds perfect. And I must admit, I'm curious about Clark Kent's lair. » 

The two men set off for Clark's apartment and when they arrived, the reporter set the young man at the kitchen table while he prepared pancakes, toast and coffee. Jason watched him walk back and forth, answering his questions and asking him back. Overall, the atmosphere was relaxed, almost cozy.   
Breakfast eaten, to-do list done, they walked out, and headed downtown Metropolis on foot. Clark was pretty close to the center, Clinton street being in Metropolis Mid Town. They walked up north towards Tilton Avenue, chatting happily.  
The day passed fairly quickly, and Jason enjoyed it as much as he could. He went for a walk, visited one of the city's museums, went to the park behind the Daily Planet after picking up their lunch, and ate on a bench while discussing everything and nothing. The best memory of his day with Clark was when they walked past the Luthor Tower and a little later, out of sight, the reporter grabbed Jason and carried him to the top of the tower to see the city from above. 

The day was coming to an end and Jason would have to go back to the hospital. They were sitting in Clark's car in the parking lot when Jason finally ran out of things to say. Silence fell quietly as they got out of the car and headed towards the hospital entrance.

"You know, it wasn't just today. You're going to have other authorized releases. And after a while... your discharge will be final. And just like today, if you want, I'll be there to pick you up. »

Jason didn't answer. Instead, he turned towards Clark who was watching him and stopped thinking for a moment. He paused all his doubts, repressed the stress he was feeling and slapped himself mentally to give himself courage. No matter what happened, he would have no regrets. 

He stared at the reporter for half a second before grabbing him by the shirt and kissing him so desperatly that his whole body curved into Clark's.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, 
> 
> I'm so sorry I'm late for the next chapter. I am working remotely because of Covid-19 and it has been .... a handful if i may say. I did not had the time to do anything else.   
> Yesterday I had almost the entire day to write and correct, but it's all thanks to my amazing best friend who came over for a tea. (Here the private reunion of less than 10 people is allowed again). 
> 
> I hope everybody is safe and sound, and I also hope that you will like this chapter. 
> 
> xoxo

Sunday was one of the days of the week when Jason wasn't seeing his psychiatrist or Clark. In fact, it was the one day of the week he didn't see either.   
Today he wished he could have talked to Dr. Lambert, and today he felt that if Clark was supposed to come and visit him, he wouldn't have. Not after what happened the night before.  
Jason felt like slapping himself in the face. Yesterday he had a chance to get out of the hospital for the day. And it had been a great experience. He just ruined it in the end by giving in to a whim and kissing Clark like his life depended on it.   
Let's be clear, he had no regrets about kissing Clark at all. He'd wanted to for a while, but he was regretting that he might have ruined a potential friendship. He had gotten close to the reporter, they had a good relationship. He'd be disappointed and blame himself for ruining it just because he'd been selfish. Especially since he didn't stick around to see Clark's reaction. He went inside immediately and didn't wait for Clark to react. 

The next day, Jason's suspicions were confirmed... Clark hadn't shown up to visit the young man... He wasn't that surprised, but he still couldn't help but be disappointed. Sitting in the common room, he was thinking... First, maybe he could get a message to Clark through Dr. Lambert. Since the psychiatrist was the one who had authorized the reporter to be his chaperone, he had to be in touch with him. With no news of Clark, and no means of communication at his disposal, he might be able to call in this little favor. 

Days went by without Clark ever coming back to see him. Jason closed in on himself. He didn't realize it right away, but the stress had returned and so had the guilt. He was more distant, less smiling, less talkative... His thoughts were focused on one person: Clark... He'd ruined everything by kissing him the way he did. He never should have let himself get carried away like that. No matter how many times he told himself it was too late anyway, he couldn't go back, he wanted to erase everything and start over. Not to kiss Clark impulsively, but to talk to him. Eventually, tell him that he had developed an attraction for him lately, that he had this fantasy... this desire... 

Jason sighed and followed the rest of the patients back to his hallway and then back to his room. It was time to go to bed. He changed and slipped between the sheets before looking out the window. He had already thought about it many times. Escaping from the hospital would have been easy. He had been trained for this kind of thing. He reconsidered it after what he regarded as the total failure that was Clark's stolen kiss. But escaping for what? To go to Clark and beg his forgiveness? To have Bruce and Dick on his tail as soon as his disappearance was noticed? Meh... Begging Clark's forgiveness was something he wanted, having his father and brother go nuts ... nope. Especially not after they left him alone for months without a word or a visit. He closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep. 

In the middle of the night he woke up. Something was wrong. He hadn't felt like this for a long time, and his training came back to him in a flash. He kept his eyes closed and listened. There was no noise in the room, not even in the corridor, he did not know what had caused this feeling, but he was certain that something was wrong.   
He straightened up and backed away. 

« H…. How long have you been standing here?"

Leaning against the wall in front of Jason's bed was Superman.   
Not Clark. Superman.   
And he remained impassive. 

" Listen . . . Last time I did this. . . . " 

Jason lowered his eyes and began to play on the edge of his quilt, not knowing how to formulate his thoughts.

"I... what happened..."  
"That kiss... that kiss that was reeking of desperation... Did you mean it ? »

The young man didn't expect that. Not to this question, not Clark's calmness, and certainly not the little glimmer of hope that tied up his stomach. 

"I... I'm terrified because I think I'm in love with you, and I'm afraid I've ruined everything with...  
"Don't say you love me."

Jason felt his heart clench, and was silent for a moment, a lump in his throat. 

"Why?"

His voice was broken, his mouth was dry. He looked up and stared at Clark. 

"Why," he said. Answer me this. Because I'm crazy? Because a few months ago I tried to end it all? Because I have a paranoid antisocial for a father? I can't change the past, I've done horrible things I know, but now ... but there's one thing I know and for which I won't make amends, because you're the one who told me, made me repeat it over and over and over again ... I'm not sorry for what happened, I shouldn't feel sorry for what I'm feeling, because I have nothing to be sorry for. I kissed you Cl... Superman because I wanted to ... I've wanted to for a long time. »

Jason felt anger building up inside him for the first time in a long time and had to make an effort to keep control and not start screaming and alerting the medical staff. 

"And you know what? I'm going to be completely honest, it's not just that. I want to kiss you, but I also want you to kiss me back, I want you to take control, I want you to kiss me until I run out of air, I want to feel your lips against my throat and your hands on my skin, I want to feel your weight on me when you pin me down during a make out session, I want to feel your breath, I want you to bite me when we finally... finally... we have sex together..."

Jason couldn't finish his sentence. Superman had interrupted his momentum by pinning him against the mattress with his right hand against his lips to force him to stop talking. Clark was hovering just above him, holding both of the young man's wrists with his left hand above his head. 

"Do you realize what you're saying, Jason? Do you think I haven't thought about it? The moment I saw you in that hospital, took your hand, listened to you talk, rediscovered the boy I knew before all the horrors that happened... But that's the problem. When I first met you, you were a child, Bruce's son... I'm your father's age... "

Jason's eyebrows had furrowed and on hearing Clark's words he began to struggle, to no avail. 

"Stay still. I'm not finished. You got your rant, now it's my turn. As soon as I started to realize it, I buried it deep in my brain, but Bruce and your brother's little visit? That's when it hit me hard. I knew it and I ignored it. Because of the respect for Bruce, the implications it has, our age difference, your condition... but you know what? I've always been focused on what's best for others, for the greater good. But there's something my mother told me once, something I left out for years. She told me that every once in a while I should make a selfish choice... think of me and me alone, if only once. That's what I'm gonna do today... Bruce, Dick, the league, our age difference... all of it... it's all going to hell see if I'm in it, and to be honest... right now I'm trying not to kiss you senseless. »

Clark lowered his right hand and slid it down Jason's flank, finally slipping it under the white T-shirt he was wearing as a pajama top. He let his fingertips touch the warm skin, staring at the young man.The sensation caused a shiver in Jason, who whispered in a breath:

"Kiss me... kiss me now... kiss me now... please Clark..."

The Metropolis hero didn't let himself be impressed, and instead of responding immediately to Jason's request, he began by getting as close as possible to the young man by stopping hovering over him, and lay down against him, still keeping his wrists captive. He nudged Jason's throat and peppered it with small butterfly kisses, ripping choked moans out of him. Clark smiled against the warm skin and resumed his ministrations, kissing the young man's throat and caressing his skin under his shirt. 

"Clark ... please ... I already want you to fuck me, could you at least kiss me properly for god's sake. »

Superman let out a sensual laugh and granted Jason's request. He gave up his throat to kiss him. First one small kiss, an innocent one. He pulled away to look at Jason for a moment and what he saw on the young man's face made him abandon any reluctance he might still possibly have had. With fever, he released his lover's wrists, and within a second they started devouring each other. Jason threw his now free arms around Clark's neck, passing one of his hands through the superhero's hair, clinging desperately to the older man, grinding against him.   
Clark surrendered to the sensations of Jason's touch beneath him, his movements, his shortness of breath, the feeling of his skin under his fingers, their repeated kisses. What he felt at that moment was even better than he had imagined, and it was with regret that he broke the kiss and nudged his throat again. 

"You know this is as far as we can go tonight... I'm not even supposed to be here. »   
"It's cruel to leave me in this state... I was hoping we'd do a little more than kiss... "   
"Patience, Jason..."

Clark kissed Jason one last time and slipped away, leaving the young man alone in his bed, still out of breath, his lips red and his eyes veiled. He was hard and frustrated now. Great. Fucking hospital. 

When Jason got up the next morning, he was frustrated. Happy, yes, but incredibly frustrated. Clark's overnight visit had made him greedy, he wanted more. He had to be patient and focus on today's planned activities, hoping Clark would either come visit him in the afternoon, or better yet, overnight.   
Clark had told him to be patient, and he reluctantly obeyed this injunction since his visitor did not show up the next day. He had to be more patient than he thought, as he had not heard from the reporter until his Friday session with Dr. Lambert, who told him that, thanks to his progress and behaviour, he had, if he wished, been given the green light to spend the weekend with his chaperone. The request had been made by Clark, who after the day together had returned to the doctor, who himself had already observed encouraging signs in the young man's recovery. It had been almost seven months since Jason had arrived, and the doctor wanted to give him a chance to prove that he was ready for the occasional outing. The first day having been a success, the journalist's request had not worried the psychiatrist, who after reflection, had given his agreement. The next morning, Jason would be handed over to his chaperone, and would return to the hospital on Sunday evening. If all went well, Dr. Lambert was open to the idea of repeating the experience until Jason's complete reintegration.

So on Saturday morning, Jason joined Clark in the visitors' room, put on the clothes he had brought him, the previous time's clothes having been returned to him by the nursing staff, and they both left the hospital. Without a word, they got into the reporter's car and drove to his apartment.  
Once there, Clark closed the door behind him and faced Jason. 

"So... »  
"So what Jason? » 

The young man got close enough to Clark that he had to raise his head slightly to look him in the eye. He had forgotten that the reporter was almost 10 centimeters taller than him.

"So... I'm lucky I get to spend the weekend here with you... do you have any special plans or can we just stay here so you can finally fuck my brains out ? »

Clark smiled and grabbed Jason by the neck, drawing him into a kiss. They hugged, and the young man pushed the Kryptonian back against the front door of the apartment, tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth, before kissing him again with urgency.

"Jason... What are you trying to do? Turn me on? »

The young man did not answer the question, and simply drew the line of Clark's jaw with a light kiss that gradually descended to his throat. He ran his hands over the journalist's flanks and eventually began to unbutton the plaid shirt, starting with the bottom buttons.

"I have to admit it' s working, but..." 

He grabbed Jason's hands, stopping him in his tracks. 

"As I told you the other night... be patient, Jason. »

To punctuate his sentence, he placed a last chaste kiss on the young man's lips before heading to the kitchen.   
Frustrated, Jason followed him and settled down at the table, staring at Clark as he prepared breakfast. 

"Clark ... why are you holding back ? »  
"I am not holding back. I just want to take my time. Grabbing you by the waist, swinging you on my bed and fucking you until you pass out would be too easy. And then you caught me by surprise the first time... I want to tease you a little bit. »  
"So... You' re frustrating me on purpose? »  
" Exactly. "

Clark laid breakfast on the table and gave the young man a plate and cutlery, before settling down in front of him.

" Seriously? »  
"Yes, seriously, Jason. »   
"Fuck. »  
"Tt... I know Alfred taught you better than to swear like that. Besides, I'm sure we can put those lips to better use. » 

Jason grunted and attacked his breakfast. 

"Don't be a sore loser, Jason... I promise you will be just that, sore, before the weekend ends. »


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all :) 
> 
> This is the last chapter of this fic ! With work, it has been difficult to finish but, hey, here it is :)   
> Clark/Jason was a bit of a new thing to try for me. It didn't go as planned but overall.... I am not to disappointed. I hope you liked it :) 
> 
> I have other fics planned so stay tuned :)   
>  And as usual I hope you'll like this final chapter :) 
> 
> xoxo

Jason never fully realized it until today, but Clark was a patient man. So very, very patient.   
The reporter's comment over breakfast had shocked him, but still managed to relieve some of his frustration. At least he wasn't rejected, Clark just wanted to have a little fun. And Jason discovered to his dismay that the man was resilient.   
All day long, Jason had been multiplying, innuendoes, subtle contacts, but not at a single moment had the reporter been troubled. Nothing. They had spent the morning at an exhibition on Luthor Corps' latest inventions, during which Jason had made many inappropriate gestures, only to provoke his older friend, who had remained impassive. Then they had a lunch in town, during which Jason took it upon himself to play a foot under the table with Clark, who remained of marble, much to Jason's frustration, before wandering the streets. All Jason wanted to do was go back to the apartment. Where they'd be alone, with no outside eyes, no one to watch them or surprise them. He wanted to be able to cling to Clark like a mussel to its rock until he cracked, which he couldn't do in public, not openly.

"It's almost dinnertime. Maybe we could go home, huh? It's starting to get a little chilly. » 

Clark resisted the urge to roll his eyes to the sky, smiled at the young man accompanying him, and pulled him up against him. 

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but we won't be going home anytime soon. We have dinner plans. I know you won't like it, but we have to go. It's really important. »

Jason frowned, he didn't like the direction of the conversation. 

"Why not?"  
"Dinner is with Bruce and Dick. They want to see you. »

The young man let go of Clark and abruptly moved away from him, becoming defensive out of habit.

"Why now? They could have had a chance to come to me in the last seven months and they didn't. I have nothing to say to them. »  
"Jason. Please. »

Clark brought jason up against him, one hand on his hip, the other grabbing his chin. 

"I don't want to see them, Clark. »  
"And yet we're going to have to. It's just a meal. Then again... it's at a fast food restaurant, it'll be quick. Listen to them and if you don't like what you hear we'll leave. I promised Bruce that you'd try. I never promised you'd stay until the end. Okay? »  
"You do realise that I have a big problem with staying put and silent right? »   
"I never asked you to sit still and be quiet, Jason. Just that you listen to what they have to say. And then... the sooner dinner passes, the sooner we can go home. » 

Jason smiled back at these words, and wrapped his arms around Clark's waist. 

"Oooooh, I'm interested. I can't wait until we're alone. We still have to finish what we started the other night. Just so you know, I scratch and bite."

Clark smiled a little smile, and passed his thumb on Jason's bottom lip before kissing him.

"Good. You will crawl and beg too. »

By the time they got to the fast food place, Bruce and Dick were already there. Dick's face lit up when he saw Jason, and Bruce got up in his seat, no particular emotion on his face. Once they were settled and their order was placed, it was Jason who opened the conversation, his brother and father seemingly reluctant. 

"Clark said you wanted to see me ? You do know that we have a small, bright, white room at the hospital for visitors, right? It's really nice, and the tables are spaced far enough apart so you can't overhear other people's conversations."  
"Jason. »

The young man directed his gaze to Bruce who had just spoken. 

"Yes?"  
"We didn't come to see you because you needed to be alone to make your treatment and recovery go as smoothly as possible. »  
"So ... You left me alone, because the last time you left me alone I tried to kill myself. Makes sense. No really, it's clearly the right idea. »

At the mention of his brother's suicide attempt, Dick let slip a strangled complaint. He looked down and spoke before Bruce could respond. 

"Jason... we didn't know how to handle the situation. You... when... with what happened with Roy, and you isolating yourself, and.... Jason you were nowhere to be found. I looked for you, I combed Gotham from top to bottom. When we finally found you... ...it was almost too late... "  
"Who said I wanted to be found in the first place? » 

An uncomfortable silence settled in until the waitress brought them their meal. Unlike Bruce and Dick, Jason was not uncomfortable. He had been at peace with his gesture for some time, thanks to Dr. Lambert and Clark, among others. He knew why, and he had understood that feeling guilty when he was in a state in which he saw no other solution than to end it all, would lead to nothing. He needed to forgive himself and start living again. And now he wanted to live, not for Roy, or for his father and brother, not for Clark either, although he had to admit that the latter was a rather attractive door to the future, but for him. To stop feeling guilty, or angry for everything that had happened to him before, for everything that had made him suffer. He wanted to start over and leave the past in the past. 

He was devouring his hamburger when Bruce spoke again. 

"Jason, I admit we didn't handle it well. We will do our best to make amends in the future. Alfred's already prepared your room at the mansion, and as soon as you get the okay from your doctor, you can come back to Gotham and... "  
"No thanks. »

Dick snapped his head up. 

"What do you mean no, thank you, little wing?"

Jason wiped his mouth with the paper towel that was on his tray, took a sip of soda, and cleared his throat. 

"I mean, I'm not coming back to the mansion. When I go out, I'm staying here. In Metropolis. I'd get a job, maybe go back to school... ...I don't know about that yet... ...but I'm not coming back to Gotham. Not right away. »  
"Jason, be reasonable, you don't think..."

The young man ignored Bruce and turned to Clark who had remained silent during and after eating his own meal. 

"Clark, do you mind if I stay in Metropolis after I get out of here ? I wouldn't be a nuisance. Like I said, I already have some ideas about what I want to do after all this. But to avoid any conflict, i need to know if you'll give me your permission to stay here. »

The reporter didn't answer immediately, he first glanced at Bruce, who had scowled and Dick, who was stuck in a state of shock.   
He sighed inwardly, he didn't know why, but he suspected that somehow Bruce would make him regret it. 

"When you get out of the hospital, as I told you before, I'll be there to pick you up if you want me to. And if you'd like to stay in Metropolis after that, you're welcome to do so. »

Jason felt an immense relief at his words. He hadn't told Clark because he himself hadn't made up his mind about it yet, but after Bruce's words... ...he knew what he had to do and he wanted to do it. He was still young, barely in his early twenties, he still had time to go back to school, he had always wanted to go to university after all. The only obstacle to his plans had been his violent and premature death at the hands of a sadistic clown.

"Thank you, Clark. If you don't mind now, I think we've covered everything, I'd like to go home. »   
"Jason, please."

The young man turned to his brother.   
"Look, Dick, clearly you've thought of everything you want for me after all that's happened. You just haven't thought about what I want. Until you question yourself, and accept that like you, I'm a human being who makes his own choices, I have nothing to say to you. » 

He got up and waited for Clark to take leave of the other two men and walked to the exit of the fast food restaurant with the reporter on his heels.  
They walked away silently, walking for a while until the fast food restaurant was no longer in sight. Jason stopped suddenly and released a long, trembling breath. 

"I knew it wasn't a good idea to see them..."   
"I know it's not my place to say this but... at least you got to tell them what you wanted. That's a good thing, right? And I must confess that I support your decision to go back to school, I could take the necessary information from Metropolis University if you wish. »   
"Your optimism is annoying, Clark. »

The Kryptonian hid a laugh behind a laughter and smiled.

"With all that we didn't have time for dessert... We could stop for a milkshake on the way home, what do you think? »

Jason moved closer to Clark and wrapped his arms around his waist, placing his forehead against the shoulder of his older friend, who in turn placed his hands on the young man's hips.   
They remained in this position in silence for a moment before Jason whispered against the reporter's shirt.

"I want a strawberry milkshake. »

Clark's laughter echoed through the empty street, and he dragged Jason with him to the diner where they took their milkshakes to go and then made their way to the reporter's apartment. Once there, they settled into the couch after Clark received an eye roll from the young man when he asked him to take off his shoes. Clark turned on the television, for the sole purpose of creating a background noise, while Jason finished his milkshake and they talked about everything and nothing.

"You know what? . . . Somehow it makes me feel good to be able to turn them off like that. Before I would have certainly gotten angry, yelled, hurled a few insults before I got pissed off and finally bowed to Bruce's decision. Now .... No ... "

He put his empty milkshake on the coffee table and sighed. 

"I have a 50/50 chance that he decides to follow me from afar and still try to intervene in my life, right? »   
"Hm... it's likely indeed. As long as it doesn't prevent you from carrying out your plans, though..."   
"It's just ... I feel like we don't have intimacy with Bruce, he's always in the loop. All the time. It's creepy... and annoying too. »  
"He doesn't know everything. And as long as I'm here, this apartment will be in a safe place, he has no eyes or ears here. »   
"It's reassuring... especially since..." 

Jason turned, and straddled Clark, putting his arms around the reporter's neck, leaning over to give him a tender kiss. He ran his tongue over his lips before biting his lower lip, locking eyes with the reporter.

"There are things I want you to do to me right now that I don't want him to hear. »  
"Hm... Really? » 

Jason nodded, and shivered when Clark put his hands under the young man's shirt and moved up his back. 

"And what exactly are the things that you want me to do to you? » 

The young man jerked forward before responding feverishly.

"I want you to start by kissing me like you did the other night... undressing me... tease me until I beg you to just bend me over and fuck me... I want you to make me scream until my voice is hoarse and I go limp, just good enough to take you... I want you to make me your cock slut, and cum in me again and again and again and again... I want you on me, in me, now. »

He punctuated every action he described with a new kiss as he unbuttoned Clark's shirt that hadn't looked away from him. If the reporter hadn't been so focused on the young man, he would have heard the muffled gasp behind his front door and the hurried footsteps of Dick turning around.  
Jason finished taking Clark's shirt off and began to tackle his jeans' belt, when he grabbed the young man and stood up, forcing him to lock his legs around Clark's waist. In an instant they were in the bedroom, Jason bouncing off the mattress, the Kryptonian kneeling over him. 

"Your clothes... take them off."  
"What... I..."  
"You heard me. Take. Them. Off. Now. »

Jason didn't take much longer and got rid of his shirt before unbuttoning the jeans he was wearing, wiggling them down his thighs, dragging his boxer shorts with them. It was a complicated maneuver as he was still lying under Clark, but having him above him, devouring him with his eyes, was particularly erotic for Jason. His jeans fell to the ground in a muffled crinkle, and now naked, he didn't dare move. The intensity of Clark's gaze made him fidget. 

"Open my jeans. » 

Jason swallowed hard and reached to remove the half-unbuckled belt, then unbuttoned Clark's jeans. He plunged his hand to release his lover's erection and froze. 

"You're bigger than I expected."  
"Still want me to make you scream ? »  
"Yes..."  
"Still want me to make you my cock slut ? »   
"Oh god yes..." 

Jason shivered and set about getting Clark out of his pants. Clark stopped him on the way, leaving the jeans pulled down to his thighs. The young man passed the palm of his hand along the erection leaking and wrapped his fingers around the engorged cock. Clark hadn't blinked, not even when Jason started pumping him slowly, passing his thumb over the reddened glans. In an abrupt movement, the reporter captured Jason's lips in a passionate kiss that made him let slip a strangled noise. Things were not going as he had imagined. He wasn't disappointed, far from it, he knew that by the end of the evening Clark would fulfill his wishes, but he couldn't figure out what he was thinking.   
Clark finally straightened up and dragged Jason with him, pulling him down from bed and kneeling down in front of him. He watched him for a moment, passing his thumb over his red lips. He was disheveled, out of breath, and his own. Just for himself, ready to let himself be devastated without complaining. 

"Now ... Let's put that mouth of yours to good use. »

Jason had had some rough awakenings. The first that came to mind was the one that followed his forced swim in the Lazarus pit. Panic, pain, incomprehension, anger, everything was mixed up in his mind and he only wanted one thing to isolate himself from everything and everyone so that the pain would stop.  
There had also been the post-drinking awakenings. Those were painful but for another reason. He usually had a pasty mouth, a headache that made him bang his head against the walls and permanent nausea. He didn't miss those awakenings at all.   
This morning, on the other hand, he didn't know if he could describe his wake-up as difficult or not. He was pressed up against Clark, sore, throat inflamed, covered in bruises and hickeys, and despite the discomfort of it all, he was satisfied.   
The night he had spent had been hectic, and at times particularly intense, but he did not regret embarking on this adventure for a second. Jason had wanted some roughness, Clark delivered, the same for their tender moment, when they had found a slower, more lascivious rhythm. That moment when Jason had realized how much he wanted to be wanted, that someone wanted him, not just physically, but emotionally as well. 

He was interrupted in his thoughts by Clark, who was beginning to wake up. He shifted and blinked for a moment, getting used to the ambient light. He turned to Jason, grabbed him by the waist and slid him towards him, trapping him in an embrace. Jason stifled a laugh and placed a light kiss on the corner of his lover's lips, who grunted, still half asleep, before nuzzling the young man's throat, hooking their ankles together. Jason draped his arm around Clark, his fingers trailing down the journalist back.

"I could get used to this."  
" Good. Now all we have to do is make sure you get out of the hospital permanently. »

The following months were a real test. Jason's general condition had improved, he was getting better, and the day of his release came. In the last few months, many projects had come to life in the young man's mind. On the night of his last meeting with Bruce, he had expressed the desire to resume his studies. And he intended to stick to it. While still in hospital, he had made inquiries at Metropolis University, studied the program, and decided on the classical literature program. With this kind of study he could teach himself later, and the prospect had delighted him. He had been looking forward to starting classes.   
Clark had helped him put together his dossier, and had received the reply letter at home. He had kept the envelope sealed until he could visit the young man and give it to him, so they could open it together.   
Jason's joy when he discovered that he had been received had been sublime.   
And when he was finally able to get out... Clark knew that things would only get better for the young man. He was determined. He'd hung up his old life and wanted to focus on his new life as a student.   
Bruce hadn't even come to see him when he got out of the hospital, and neither had Dick. Clark had been the only one to pick him up, to hug him, to kiss him.   
Jason knew that his connection with Bruce, Dick and the others had been severely damaged, he didn't intend to go looking for them and try to understand. He had suffered too much in the past because of this family. He wanted something else, and Metropolis seemed to want to give it to him. 

Led to the car by Clark, Jason turned around one last time to take one last look at the front of the hospital that had been his home for over a year. 

"jason?"

The young man shook his head and joined Clark. 

" It's all right," he said. I'm all set. We're good to go. » 

With a smile Clark embraced him and kissed his forehead.   
Yeah, things would be better from now on. Clark was certain of it.


End file.
